


Pumpkin Juice and Pesky Portraits

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, Magical Portraits, old fic, reposted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Narcissa wins this round.





	Pumpkin Juice and Pesky Portraits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://hd-pots-n-porn.livejournal.com/profile)[hd_pots_n_porn](https://hd-pots-n-porn.livejournal.com/) July Prompt: Iced/Chilled Drinks

****  
“I really do appreciate you making the time to help me with this, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa said as she escorted the young man to the West Wing. “I’m told your curse breaking services are in especially high demand.”

Harry Potter smiled in reply, looking endearingly young and bashful for a man of his calibre. “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Malfoy,” he insisted. “It’s the least I can do after...”

Narcissa made an elegant yet dismissive gesture, indicating that there was no need to speak of that time in the Forest. It hardly does to dwell on the past. “Now then,” she went on, as they entered the parlour. “I’m not particularly attached to any of the...items in question. They do come hand in hand with some rather nasty curses. However, if anything in this wreckage is salvageable...”

“I’ll stick to neutralising the curses before destroying anything,” Harry promised, sizing up some of the antiques set about the space. Cursed or not, he reckoned most of the tapestries in this room were worth a small fortune.

“As you should, you scoundrel!”

The shrill snap cut abruptly into the conversation. Harry whirled around in alarm, almost missing Narcissa’s weary sigh as his gaze settled on a portrait. A stately, imperious face peered down at him, with an all too familiar expression of disdain. Sharp eyes flashed and narrowed as they sized him up. “Some of these heirlooms are worth more than your monthly wages,” the elderly matron in the painting informed him with a sneer.

Narcissa pursed her lips in evident displeasure. “Mr. Potter, I don’t believe you’ve had the _pleasure_ ,” she drawled. “May I introduce my...mother-in-law, Madame Patricia Malfoy.”

“Ha!” Patricia snapped, turning on Narcissa now. “I’ll bet _that_ was hard for you to spit out, you vapid little tart. Don’t think I can’t catch your impudence just because I’m languishing in this canvas monstrosity! I may be dead but I’m not feeble-minded!”

“As you say, Madame,” Narcissa replied tersely.

“And to _think_ my Lucius could have married a Duchess!” Patricia railed on. “I begged him to reconsider but oh _no_ , he was in love! With one of the Black sisters, no less! Harlots, the lot of you! _Harlots_ , I say!”

Harry’s eyes widened and he took a prudent step back, but Narcissa merely arched an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she informed him dryly. “And by the way,” she added in a discreet whisper. “If something...unfortunate were to happen to that portrait— a stray Incendio _,_ perhaps— let’s just say, it wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing in the world.”

Harry stared dumbly as she slipped a Galleon in his palm and glided off, leaving him alone in a room full of cursed odds and ends— not to mention her very irate mother-in-law.

“Careful with that tapestry!” Patricia shrieked, apparently on a roll. “And don’t even think about nicking any of that silverware! It belonged to my great-grandmother, you...you _roustabout!”_

Harry echoed Narcissa’s sigh. This was going to be a tough job. 

 

* * *

 

  
Draco had intended to stay in his rooms for as long as Potter infested the Manor. He had no desire to even see, let alone speak to, his ex-school rival and he couldn’t even fathom why Mother had insisted on _his_ presence for the curse breaking stint when that ghastly Bill Weasley would have sufficed.

Nonetheless, his curiosity eventually won out. He hadn’t seen Potter since... well, let’s say for a _while_ now and it would be interesting to see what time had made of his old nemesis. So, Draco made his way downstairs, cast a quick Notice Me Not Charm, grabbed a chilled bottle of pumpkin juice and settled down to observe.

Ten minutes later, he had to admit he was having trouble looking away. Potter was looking rather fit. His lanky form had given way to a lean, sculpted frame and tones muscles— something Draco had ample opportunity to ogle considering the man had already divested himself of his robes and tie and rolled up his sleeves for good measure. Evidently, curse-breaking was hard work. Nevertheless, Potter worked with stoic, single-minded concentration— casting efficient spells, diverting complex and ancient spell traps and rendering the items harmless. It was... interesting to watch. The process, that is. Not Potter. Or his muscles.

Potter was a prat anyway.

That being said, he had to give the man credit. Anyone who could work with Grand’Mere Patricia screeching like a bag of cats in the background deserved his grudging respect. Amusing as it was, Draco wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

So, Draco decided to do the polite thing and offer assistance. He took the Charm off and strode into the parlour.

“...a half-blood in my ancestral home!” Patricia raged. “I just thank Merlin I didn’t live to see it! And don’t you deny it, boy. You’re clearly not a pureblood, are you? Why, in my day your kind...”

Potter’s back was turned and he was focused on a jewellery box but Draco could see how tense his shoulders were and how tightly he clenched his fists. Danger signs that he was well acquainted with. Prudently, Draco decided to announce his presence lest Potter should take it upon himself to decimate his harridan of a grandmother.

“Good afternoon, Grand’Mere,” he greeted, making a polite bow. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Potter’s double take. Draco suppressed a smirk and kept his attention on the portrait. Patricia’s contemptuous sneer dissipated at once. Her eyes brightened and she gazed at him with something almost akin to affection.

“Draco, _mon cher_ ,” she purred. “What brings you down here?”

“The pleasure of your company, of course,” Draco replied. Potter snorted disbelievingly, earning another glare from Patricia.

“It is good of you to come and visit your Grand’Mere,” she sniffed. “Of course, one could argue that you would visit more often if your _mother_ hadn’t relegated me to this accursed room, to languish in my isolation...”

“Ah, not to change the subject,” Draco broke in hastily because Salazar help him, he was _not_ going down this road again, “but I noticed one of the house elves sneaking around the East Dining Room a while back. You know, where the family silverware is? I’m sure it’s nothing but...”

Patricia gasped in horror. “You will do well to never take the help for granted, my boy,” she hissed, casting a disparaging glance in Harry’s general direction. “I’ll return shortly. In the meantime, keep an eye on things here.”

Draco smirked and bowed in acquiescence. “As you wish, Madame.”

Patricia disappeared at once, no doubt already inhabiting her other portrait and on the lookout for unsuspecting elves. Draco made a mental note to give them a day off in the near future.

A sudden laugh broke him out of his musings. When he turned around, Potter was grinning at him. “That was bloody impressive,” he offered, green eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re a life saver, Malfoy.”

Draco flushed at the frank compliment. “It was nothing,” he demurred. “She’s really not so terrible.” Potter raised an unconvinced eyebrow and Draco felt his lips twitch in a smile. “Well, not to everyone,” he amended.

Potter chuckled again. “Well, thank you,” he said. “At least I can get on with it now. I’ve been here two hours and I hardly got anything done with her breathing down my neck.”

“It does look like hard work,” Draco agreed. On a whim, he offered Potter his pumpkin juice. “Take it,” he insisted when Potter looked up in surprise. “You need it more than I do.”

Potter’s eyes brightened and he grinned, accepting the proffered beverage gratefully. “You’re a godsend,” he declared fervently. “Godric’s honour, Malfoy, I could just kiss you.”

Draco’s eyes widened and his blush made an unexpected comeback. His eyes followed the line of Potter’s throat as he drank heartily. A single drop of moisture tracked its way from the bottle to Potter’s lips and down that same, slender throat, sliding down the prominent Adam’s apple and settling in the hollow of Potter’s collarbone. Draco’s mouth watered in response and his tongue darted out instinctively, wanting to follow that path all the way down to...

His wayward thoughts finally caught up to him and Draco flush deepened with sheer mortification. Good grief, what was _wrong_ with him?

“Well, goodbye then,” he blurted, turning to flee from the scene.

Potter was faster. He snagged Draco’s sleeve and pulled him back. Draco squeaked in surprise as he was yanked back, tumbling right into a toned chest as strong hands wrapped around his waist.

“What’s the hurry?” Potter whispered in his ear. His hands slipped down Draco’s hips as he spoke, exploring his slim body rather boldly now.

A pleasant shiver crept down Draco’s spine, seemingly in tandem with Potter’s touches. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he was having trouble stringing words together.

“I...I was...”

Potter’s hands traced his waist and he swallowed audibly, feeling inexplicably bashful. It was only Potter, for Merlin’s sake. But why did Potter have to look at him like _that?_ Draco dampened his lips unconsciously, only realising what he was doing when Potter’s grip tightened.

“You look _good_ , Malfoy,” Potter growled. His thumbs stroked tantalising circles against Draco’s hipbones. “And I was only half joking before. I _really_ want to kiss you right now.”

Draco’s breath hitched and he pushed back against Potter’s sturdy frame, angling his head for better access to that all too tempting mouth. “Why don’t you?”

“Because if that harpy comes back and screams at me for defiling her precious grandson, I might just take your mum up on her offer.”

Draco laugh turned to a hiss of approval as Potter resumed his idle petting. “You know,” he murmured coyly, shifting subtly against those strong, calloused fingers. “I’m fairly certain Grand’Mere doesn’t have an adjoining portrait in _my_ chambers.”

“Oh?” He could feel Potter’s grin against his neck. “Why don’t we find out?”

Draco mirrored Potter’s salacious smile and spirited him away without another word.

 

* * *

 

  
Three hours later, Narcissa could be found lounging in that same parlour, treating herself to a well earned Chardonnay. She had seen neither hair nor hide of Draco or Harry ever since the two of them had...retired to Draco’s bedroom.

So far, so good.

“So, this Potter boy...”

Narcissa hid her smirk with another sip. She had been wondering when Patricia would make her presence felt again.

“What about him?” she enquired casually.

“He is respectable?” Patricia demanded suspiciously.

“One of the most renowned young wizards of our time, actually,” Narcissa replied.

“Well placed, then?”

“His fortune rivals ours, if that’s what you’re so subtly enquiring about.”

Apparently, it was, because Patricia looked more than impressed. She leaned forward in her gilded frame, dark eyes glinting in anticipation. “And he’s...taken with my grandson, is he?”

“Oh, I’d say he’s very enamoured of _my_ son, yes.”

“Ah.” Patricia’s imperious features gave way to a sly smile. “It seems I underestimated you, _ma fille._ Perhaps Lucius made the right choice, after all.”

“Oh, he did, Madame,” Narcissa agreed pleasantly. “And while we’re on the subject? If you ever call me a ‘harlot’ again, there's a nice, cozy little nook in the attic just waiting for you.”

A sharp intake of breath. A beat of silence. An audible swallow.

“Understood,” Patricia acquiesced quietly.

Narcissa smiled and poured herself another glass of wine.

_Victory, at last._


End file.
